


Tonight is a night I will remember

by sherlocked221



Series: Though Not In Heat-I'm Hot for You [2]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alpha Ringo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: After the concert, Ringo and George retire to bed for some fun and games and a few little love confessions.





	Tonight is a night I will remember

The concert has left me on a high.

Then again, I was on a high since I got to have George, finally, after liking him for so long.

Even now, I can’t stop looking at him, thinking that he is mine, my little Omega- despite him being taller than me.

We’re in a car going back to the hotel. Again, it’s surging with fans around the entrance. I can’t believe that, the first time I walked into here, I was a horny Alpha quietly falling for my younger bandmate. Now, I’m walking in, striding in behind my friends, a mated Alpha. No one knows, but I feel different. The girls that scream at me cannot take my interest away from the tall-ish, scrawny boy who, even in tailored clothes, looks as though he’s borrowed his dad’s suit. On stage, I didn’t watch John’s butt to know where the hell we were in any given song, I was watching George, with a smile on my face. He looked back a few times and grinned. I wonder if he’s thinking the same, that I’ll all his, that he’s all mine, that we, thank God, finally got together, thanks to Paul.

We really owe a lot to Paul. Back in the dressing room, when George and I walked in together, sharing smiles, we got claps from our two bandmates, claps and cheers. I had suspected that Paul had set this up, if not from the very start, then he was bloody at taking the right opportunities. It was also nice to know how well he knew me. I asked if he let me go into the toilet because he knew what would happen and he explained that “I knew George couldn’t hide it and you would want to help him, even if that meant leaving him alone,” which, had he told me to do so, I would have done without a second’s thought.

Proud of himself, I catch Paul beaming at us as George and I head into our room. George has already told me that he’s ready for ‘round two,’ before also stating that he was ‘ready to go again as soon as we’d left the toilet after the first round,’ so I share that smug grin that Paul gives me. John, who stands just behind Paul, waiting for the younger man to open the door, opens his mouth hand flicks his tongue around in an obscene gesture, though, instead of condemning it, I laugh and nod my head.

George is already in our room, undressing by the bed. He removes his beige, collarless blazer, lets his shirt fall off his shoulders and onto the floor as he seamlessly unloops each translucent button, and drops his trousers, stepping out of the pooled remains. That’s mine. That pale torso, mine to bite. Those skinny, long legs, mine to hold or have wrapped around me. Those arms, mine to pin down. That bulge in his boxers, mine to satisfy.

“Richie…” His voice brings me from my thoughts.

I begin to get ready for bed (but not sleep) as well. “Yes, luv.”

“What do you want me to call you? Because Paul told me that John doesn’t usually want him to call him Alpha.”

Hu… I hadn’t thought of this. “You can call me Alpha if you like…” I say slowly, considering it in my own mind, “But I like Richie, I think.”

George smiles down to himself. He looks so cute. He does this really sweet, shy smile sometimes. It’s usually at the ground, usually as he’s thinking of something. I wonder what’s going on in that head of his. He has no reason to be shy. He’s handsome, clever, funny. He’s a fucking wizz on guitar, like he was born to play it. He’s so underappreciated by the other boys, and by fans. While female fans are often heady over Paul, with all of his boyish good-looks, or crazy for rough, ruggedly handsome John, should they not be hot for the boy who is slap bang in between of the two. He’s not quite clean cut, he’s not quite complete mess. He’s both mature looking, and youthful. Seriously, he’s so…

I’m going crazy over this boy. Has he any idea?

I pull out my pyjamas from my suitcase out of habit and start to undress. George sits on the edge of his mattress that has his legs in the space between his bed and mine. He looks at me like a puppy, begging for something.

I’m curious… would he ever beg?

“You’re not going to put those things on, are you?” He asks, pointing at my pyjamas.

“You don’t want me to?” I stand, almost in the nude, waiting for his answer. His eyes run over my body, hungrily.

“I thought we were going to…”

“So needy.” I cut in, picking up by bed shirt. His eyes grow wide. He looks as though he might whine like a kid ‘but you promised!’ Oh, that would be so cute.

“Ringo!”

“Yes, luv?” I say, slowly. I try not to smile when I meet his gaze. His eyes are now hurriedly darting from my face to my shirt.

“I thought-“

“You need to slow down, luv,” I warn, “We’ve all the time in the world. All of tonight. If I fuck you again, you’ll just want me again two minutes later. Now, quiet, ok?” I don’t think I’ve ever been so cruel… or so dominant. I steal my gaze away to button up my pyjamas. There is a distinct bulge forming in my underwear now too, but I’ve managed to hide it with my shirt. In my peripheral vision, I see George looking downright devastated as I lean down to step into a pair of silky pyjama bottoms.

What I do not see, though, is his sudden decision to pounce on me. I must’ve missed it while laughing in my mind. He leaps onto my bed on his knees, takes my hips and pulls me back onto my mattress, using my lack of balance on one leg, while the other is half hooked in the pyjamas. He pins me down with one, strong, despite being thin, arm while stepping over me with his knees to straddle my hips, once all sat down and comfortable, he grinds into me, moaning loudly as though he’s trying to make a point, I’m just not sure of what it is. He also pulls apart my pyjama top, shoving it off my shoulders so that my chest is bare once more.

“Georgie…” I say in a warning tone again, “This is no way to treat your new Alpha.”

“You were playing with me.” He states between controlled gasps, “I need this.” He elongates the ‘ee’ sound while pushing his clothed crotch down hard on mine. I don’t think I like his control much. He’s always in control. I’m not saying that I want him to forever be my submissive, but, right now, he just looks too smug up there, having overpowered me, all too controlled for merely our second go at this.

I curl my fingers around his hand that is splayed on my chest. I wait until he’s comfortable enough to hold me, then I tug him off to the side. With all his weight on one knee, I slip under the other one, push him onto all fours and waddle around the back of him. I push his legs apart, settle between them and smooth my hand down his back, feeling his spine pushing through his skin. I feel almost bad for being a bit aggressive in my movements, so I take a moment to stroke him- not _there_ , just everywhere. I particularly like running my fingers up to his neck and tickling the base of his skull under his mass of hair.

I see his expression, a huge, wide, slightly surprised grin when he peers under his own body to look up at me. I think he likes this.

“You’re going to have to learn to do as your told, Georgie.” I hum, shaking my head a little.

His smile persists, “Are you going to teach me?”

Cheeky! “It seems I’ll have to. Or you are going to get no help with your heat.”

He pushes his butt back to rub against my crotch. I push his hip forward, “Naughty.”

“I don’t think I’m learning, Ringo.” He says, feigning an innocent kid-like voice.

“No.” I affirm, “I don’t think you are. You’re going to have to be punished, if you carry on.”

He doesn’t waste a second in thrusting back into my crotch again. He wants to be punished, the kinky little bitch-in-heat. I push him forward again so that he is not touching me, then I raise my hand and… well, I spank him. It’s a little soft, I don’t want to hurt him, but he growls loudly as he jolts forward an inch, sounding pleased instead of pained.

“Are you going to be good, Georgie?” I inquire.

He looks up again, over his shoulder, at me, “I’ve had worst beatings in school and they never changed me.” He challenges.

I repeat the process, moving his butt so that I have space to slap it, then I slap harder and harder until he’s sucking in sharp breaths.

Still, I get the impression that he’s enjoying this all too much. I don’t let him recover as I drag down his underwear, smack him on the bare arse cheek, and enter him, all in quick succession.

“Richie!” He yelps. That’s it. I’ve got him now.

“Good boy.” I croon.

We lay down in my bed, George collapsing forward as I shuffle back around him. There’s just about enough space to lie on our backs, shoulder to shoulder, but we’re not like that anymore. George turns onto his side and edges towards me, prying my legs apart so that he can fit one of his between them. I thread my arm under his neck, pulling him closer until his head is practically on my head. His arms wrap around my torso.

He’s so nice to hug. I used to like sharing a bed with him back in the pre-fame days, because he was still and quiet. He would never mind being back to back touching, or having our shoulders touching, either with both of us facing up, one of us on our stomach, or both of us facing down. We were close like that. And he used to hug me on occasion, ignoring the comments hurled from John that we were queer. If only he hadn’t have been so wise as to not tell us about him and Paul, I would’ve had a right go. I guess part of the reason they ended up telling us that they were together was because George and I never really joked that they were queer, never thought it strange to hug each other. We aren’t the judging type, for obvious reasons, but also because we don’t really care about who anyone loves, as long as it is love.

“Georgie, I want to tell you something.” I whisper, moving strands of hair away from his ear as though it would help him listen. He nuzzles into my chest further. I guess that is his way of telling me he is listening. “I love you. I love you as my Omega, but also, I’ve loved you for a long time as my friend. I don’t want you thinking that I’m only doing this because I’m on my rut or you’re in heat. I really do-“

“Never thought that.” He mutters, his words vibrating into my flesh, “I thought for a while that I only wanted you because I was in heat, but I was just trying to stop myself from liking you because I didn’t know if you liked me back and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“I think that’s why we’ll work so well together,” I assure him, “Because we’re best mates.”

I think he falls asleep after that. I was so tired when we first got here, when we first put our bags down and had John bound in here to get away from Paul for some reason. I was so tired this morning. Now, I can’t even think of sleeping. To miss the sight of George buried in a hug with me, half naked and not worried about what the outside world would think, I wouldn’t ever sleep again.

I drift off a while later when George has turned around and backed up so we’re spooning.

Forever. Let’s stay like this forever.


End file.
